


One Stick of Unsalted Butter

by HalfwayThrough



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A comedy of errors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Bickering, F/M, Fluff, and BB8 is a dog, sweet fluffy bantering with a touch of farce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22602139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfwayThrough/pseuds/HalfwayThrough
Summary: Rey's neighbor is the rudest, least considerate person she has ever been forced to interact with. However, when she runs out of butter in the middle of night trying to bake cookies for Rose's birthday, there is only person she knows is awake and he is her only hope. Of course, things don't go according to plan.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 45
Kudos: 152
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	One Stick of Unsalted Butter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HopeRebel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeRebel/gifts).



Rey must be in dire need because she was standing in front of apartment 4B with every intention of talking to its occupant. 

The man who resided in 4B, a Mr. Ben Solo, had been dubbed in Rey’s group chat as her Apartment Rival. He had the complete opposite sleep schedule as her and had his television on constantly. She thought, over time, that she might get used to the hum through the wall. 

She has not. 

She’s asked him to turn it down before which earns her a “sure” before the door slams in her face. He seems to always be giving her a sneer when she’s out walking Beebee. There has not been a single person in the history of the world who disliked a golden retriever, but he always takes the stairs when she is waiting for the elevator with Beebee and has visibly changed course to avoid walking by them multiple times. He leaves junk mail in the mailroom instead of throwing it away in a trash can that’s five feet away like a normal person. 

He’s antisocial, moody, and altogether a rude human being and she desperately needed his help. 

Rey has always possessed a tendency towards procrastination, and it didn’t just apply to schoolwork. Even as an adult she’d find herself putting things off, even activities she considered fun. She had fallen into the same trap again today. Despite her love for Rose and her desire to make sure her friend's birthday was absolutely perfect, The ever-alluring call of “after the next episode of The Circle” had doomed her to repeat old mistakes. And now, with a tray of ruined cookies already smoldering in her apartment due to inexperience and impatience, she needed to completely remake them but had run of ingredients. 

There was only one person she knew was awake this time of night, and he was her only hope. 

She took a deep breath and knocked on his door. There was a pause before she could feel his footsteps through the floor. She was sure every person in the building knew when he was home, the man had no sense of how much noise he made. That or he didn’t care.

The door opened. Solo was wearing black sweatpants and a navy cardigan, his long dark hair curled around his face in wet curls as if he just got out of the shower. He looked her up and down and looked more surprised than anything else. She couldn’t blame him. 

“Hi, I’m Rey I live-,” 

“I know.” 

She choked back a scream of rage. His eyes scanned her before he added on. “You have flour on your cheek.” 

Rey closed her eyes briefly, remembering that despite the anger she felt now she truly did not wish to go to prison. 

“Yes. I do,” she said stiffly. “Mr. Solo, do you have any butter I could borrow?” 

“Why?” 

A headache had formed behind her eyes from stress and lack of sleep and Ben was baiting it into becoming a migraine. 

“I’m making cookies for my friend’s birthday tomorrow and I’ve…” she struggled to find the right word to describe the monstrosity in her kitchen. “Made a mistake.”

That’d work. 

“A mistake?” 

God, was the man a parrot? 

“Yes. And I need to start over, but I’ve run out of butter and I was wondering if you had any I could use,” she said. 

“Well, what are you making?” he asked, not moving from his spot by the door. Rey sighed, unable to hold it in. 

“Cookies,” she repeated. 

“What kind?” His voice was so calm and unbothered she felt like strangling him. 

“Mr. Solo, can you help me or not?” she asked, exasperated. 

“Depends,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of cookies are they?” 

Rey stared at him, expecting him to relent but he didn’t. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk and she felt her cheeks burn. He was doing this on purpose. The asshole. 

“Chocolate chip,” she seethed. 

“Do you have Crisco?” he asked. 

“What?” 

“Crisco, you know shortening?” 

“Why would I need that?” 

“Just butter will make your cookies runny.” 

Her eye twitched. 

“Mr. Solo I am very tired and I am not a baker-”

“That’s obvious,” he laughed. 

Sirens blared in her head. She saw nothing but red in that moment. The Apartment Rival had been promoted to Apartment Enemy. 

“If you know so much how about you make them?” she spat at him. 

“Okay,” he said. 

Rey paused. That was not the answer she was expecting. 

“Wha-” she said, the word not even fully formed. 

“I’ll make your friend cookies. You need butter and shortening, what else should I bring over?” he asked, ducking into his apartment. 

_Bring over?_

“Uh, there really is no need,” she said, peering into his apartment to see him gathering items in his arms. So he could make cookies. In _her_ apartment.

“No worries,” he said, grabbing brown sugar out of his surprisingly organized pantry. Rey’s frustrations boiled over. 

No worries is what you say after picking up something someone dropped. No worries is what you say when the waitress says it’ll take five more minutes. No worries is not what was happening! This was all worry! 

“Oh hey,” he asked, walking across his kitchen to the door with his arms full of who knows what. “Do you have Benadryl?” 

“Benadryl? Uh I have store brand,” she said, trying to remember what was in her apartment. 

“That works,” he said, stepping out of his apartment and pulling the door closed with his foot. It slammed behind him so hard she knew it would wake someone up. He walked over to her door and stood beside it waiting for her to unlock it. He smiled showing off a rather goofy grin for such a moody man. 

“Okay we’re doing this,” she muttered, walking to her door and shoving the key in it. The door swung open and Beebee started to greet her. However as soon as Ben stepped over the threshold the dog turned tail and hide in her bedroom. 

“Oh God,” he said. She turned to find him looking at the stove and the mess she had baked earlier. “What is this?” 

He poked at the blob of burnt dough. His finger sank into the middle even with the edges cooked black. 

“Okay, we’re throwing this out,” he said, grabbing the cookie sheet and moving to the garbage. 

“Wait!” Rey said. She’d spent half her grocery budget on the supplies to make cookies and she needed a moment before it all went into a Hefty bag. She admired her mess before waving at him. “Okay do it.” 

Ben gave her a weird look before slamming the sheet on the edge of her trashcan so that they all slid off. 

“Shhh, people are sleeping,” she said, skirting around him to grab the extra dough she’d made from the fridge and toss it out as well. There was no fixing it at this point. 

“They’ll live,” he shrugged. Rey zipped over to stand by his shoulder, glaring up at him. She knew he was tall, but he seemed infinitely taller in her kitchen. 

“They won’t,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “You keep me up most nights with your racket.” 

“Racket?” he laughed. “Are you 80 years old? Are you going to tell me to get off your lawn too?” 

“If I had a lawn, I wouldn’t want you on it making noise,” she said. 

“I don’t make noise to make noise I’m just living,” he said, laying out the ingredients. He paused before sneezing into his sleeve so loudly she heard Beebee yelp from the next room. “Can I get that Benadryl?” 

“Oh, sure,” she said. She dropped the bowl of extra dough on the counter and passed through her bedroom where Beebee titled his head at her. She shrugged at the dog. “I don’t know, man.” 

She went into the bathroom, looking through the medicine cabinet quickly grabbing the bottle and carrying it with her back to the kitchen. Ben already had a bowl with the dry ingredients assembled by the time she got back. 

“I didn’t give you the recipe,” she said, tossing him the bottle of pills. He grabbed it, twisted open the cap and popped two in his mouth. 

“Don’t need it,” he said, swallowing. “My cookies are perfect; I’ve memorized their conception.” 

“Don’t use that word,” Rey said, wrinkling her nose. 

“Cookies?” he asked over his shoulder smirking. 

“You know damn well what word I meant,” she said. She leaned on the end of her counter, watching as he threw the wet ingredients into a bowl and started creaming the butter together. Despite being generally grating, he was a handsome man. Tall, broad, with nice hair. She’d have to tell the group chat that Apartment Enemy was kind of cute if you weren’t listening to him speak. 

“Hey, your vanilla is garbage. Can you go to my place and grab the good stuff? It’s in the pantry at the top,” he said. 

But then he speaks. 

“Sure,” she said, pushing off the counter and trying to ignore the insult. “Don’t steal anything.” 

He laughed but sneezed in the middle of it, so it was more of wet snort than anything else. Rey went to the hall and then opened the door to Ben’s apartment. It was surprisingly quiet. She felt like she was breaking in despite specific instructions to go into it. She took her time, inspecting the apartment for any axes good for murdering. She didn’t know what she expected to be in Solo’s home- maybe a brooding chair so he could sit by the window and brood. Or perhaps a notebook to write all the rude things he thinks of, so he doesn’t forget them. Alas, there was of that nature. It was plain, minimal and kind of boring. She threw open the pantry, the kitchen light gleaming off the fancy bottle of vanilla where it sat on the top shelf of the pantry. Rey reached for it and came up short. She went to her tip toes and still, the vanilla was out of reach. 

She huffed, looking around for something to boost her reach. He didn’t seem to have a dining table nor where there any dining chairs that would go with one. There was a couch but that was far too large to move. She ventured further into the apartment until she found a small office shoved in the corner of the living room. It had an office chair with wheels and while every workplace safety video specifically told her not to do it, she grabbed the chair to stand on it. She wheeled it over to the pantry, shoved it against the shelves and climbed on board. It teetered beneath her a moment but held steady. Rey smiled before stretching up to grab the vanilla. Her fingers wrapped around the bottle and triumph flooded her chest. 

“Hey, do you have the-,” Ben’s voice pierced the silence as he swung the door open. Rey jerked, the bottle slipping from her fingers. She shot her hands out, trying to catch the bottle before it hit the ground. She succeeded, wrapping it safely in her hands. However, in the process she leaned too far to the side and the chair began to slide out from under her. For a moment she hung in the air knowing she was about to connect with hard floor with no way to stop it. She said the only thing she could in that moment:

“SHIT!”

Ben lurched forward but was a second too late. Rey crashed to his kitchen floor, her foot caught in the armrest of the office chair, wrenching her ankle the wrong way. She cried out in pain, tears already pricking her eyes. 

“FUCK,” Ben yelled, quickly untangling her from the chair and looking down into her face. His hands smoothed her hair back, his eyes searching her face for some sign she was okay. “God, are you okay?” 

“I got your fucking vanilla,” she said, holding up the vial. He stared at it a moment bewildered. “These cookies better be the best I’ve ever had.” 

He stared at her; concern etched into his features. Rey broke into a laugh. How stupid this whole thing was. Cookies, neighbors, vanilla- it was all absurd. He chuckled with her, a low tone that she felt more than heard. Their laughter grew louder until the tears falling down her cheeks were not from pain but the insanity of the evening. They laughed until the neighbor on the other side of Ben’s slammed against their shared wall. 

They stopped and shared a glance before snickering again. 

“Come on, let’s take a look at it,” Ben said, helping her sit up. He held her waist as she rose to her feet, awkwardly putting weight on it. Pain shot through her foot and she winced. Not good. 

“I think it’s broken,” Rey confessed. 

“You’re not a professional walker or anything are you?” Ben asked. 

“No? Is that a thing?” she asked. 

“No… it was a bad joke. Let me help you.” 

When Ben said he’d help her, Rey thought he’d let her swing an arm over his shoulders to help her hobble down the hall. Instead he bent down, grabbed her wrist and pulled her body over his shoulders. He hefted her up in the air and she was so shocked by the motion she couldn’t protest. She held onto him as he maneuvered them through the doorway down the hall. He kicked her door open and carried her to the couch. There he gently shifted her off his shoulders onto the cushions. 

“Where’d you learn that?’ she asked, breathless. 

“Television,” he said with a shy smile before sitting at the end of the couch and pulling her foot into his lap. He untied her shoe, pulling it off carefully before peeling off her sock. Rey looked at it but saw it was already starting to swell and quickly turned away, taking an interest in her ceiling. 

“Is it bad?” she asked. He paused to sneeze before answering. 

“Actually, I think it may be just a sprain,” he said. His tone, however, was not very convincing. 

“Are you as skilled in medicine as you are in baking?” she asked, daring a look at him. He chuckled. 

“No, and I don’t dare claim to be,” he said, shifting her leg to stand up. He shoved a pillow under her foot. “Speaking of cookies, I can’t let you hurt yourself and be empty handed.” 

He moved into the kitchen and Rey watched as he washed his hands and dove back into the task. He shoved his sleeves up to his elbows and went about the very domestic task of baking with a concentrated focus reserved for rocket engineers. Adrenaline still buzzed through her body and, while she avoided looking down at her foot, Rey could not keep silent. She twisted her fingers together, fidgeting on the couch and watching Ben in the kitchen to keep herself occupied. 

“Where’d you learn to bake?” she asked. 

“My mother taught me,” he said with a smile. “This isn’t exactly her recipe, I’ve made improvements.” 

“How can one improve a cookie? It’s just a cookie.” 

“Have you ever had a bad cookie?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” 

“What was bad about it?” 

“The texture, too hard and crumbly.” 

“Exactly. If you get the perfect texture you get the perfect cookie,” he said. He looked over at her, his eyes flickering to her foot. “Oh, hey do you have ice, I’ll get it for you.” 

“Actually, I do,” she said. He moved to the freezer gathering ice and sneezing as he went. Beebee emerged from the bedroom, curling up on the floor beside the couch where Rey could scratch his head. She was losing confidence in Ben’s assessment of her injury by the minute and knew, be it tonight or in the morning, she’d have to get a real doctor to look at it. Something she wasn’t exactly keen on doing. 

Ben brought the ice over, letting out another loud sneeze. His nose was tipped with red, his eyes watering. 

“Are you good?” Rey asked. Ben nodded, sneezing again, before placing the ice on her foot. 

“Yeah no I’m allergic to dogs,” he said with another sneeze. “But you gave me allergy medicine.” 

He turned to the counter picking up the bottle and looking at its label. 

“…that expired six years ago.” 

“Oh no… I’m sorry.” 

“No, no really-” he sneezed “-it’s okay.” 

“It’s not, oh my god are your eyes swelling up?” Rey asked, sitting forward to squint at him. He shook his head, but she could see his eyelids puffing up into an angry red ball. “Oh no they are!” 

“I’m fine,” he said. 

“Do you have any medicine at your place?” she asked. 

“No, that would be the smart thing to do,” he said, berating himself. He took a breath, his fingers pressing against the swelling skin of his eyes. “It’ll pass.” 

Beebee barked. Ben sneezed. 

“You should go to the hospital!” Rey said, moving to get off the couch. 

“No, I’m fine,” he said, moving to her side to press her shoulder back against the couch. 

“No, you look bad.” 

“Well, thanks I appreciate the compliment.” 

“You know what I mean!” 

Beebee dove into a barking fit, excited by all the loud noises and general rowdiness. She could hear people banging on walls, disturbed by their yelling, even the sound of the person living below her hitting their ceiling. 

“Come on,” Rey said, grabbing Ben’s arm and hauling herself up. “We have to go to the hospital.” 

Ben held on to her, holding her weight as she maneuvered onto her good foot. 

“I- I don’t think I can drive,” Ben admitted before sneezing onto her shoulder. “Oh God I’m sorry.” 

He wiped a hand against her shirt, trying to clean the mess but only succeeding in smearing it. 

“No worries, no worries,” she said, shrugging his hand off. “This night is already weird enough. Just get me to the parking lot.” 

Ben managed to turn off the oven and get Rey back into a fireman’s carry on his shoulders- a hold he insisted on despite Rey mentioning other ones that would work just as well- before he started to really lose his vision. He moved through the doorway, smacking Rey’s head on the frame as he went. 

“Sorry!” he said loudly. Someone yelled from behind a door. Ben sneezed. Beebee yelped behind them, pacing around the kitchen. 

“It’s fine!” Rey said, wincing through the pain. With her keys in his hands he managed to lock her apartment and started down to the elevator. 

“Keep going, just a few more steps- now turn right,” Rey guided him. Ben swung around and Rey’s ankle connected with the wall. She bit back a curse, instead curling her hands into his shoulders. 

“Are… you okay?” he asked. 

“No, now bend down so I can click the button.” 

Awkwardly, Ben lowered himself enough that Rey was able to lean over him and call the elevator. A door opened in the hall and a middle aged man peered out in his pajamas. 

“Hey, people are sleeping!” he said.

“We know!” they said in unison. 

They continued their dance, slipping into the lift with a few more bumps while ignoring their neighbor who continued yelling at them until the elevator doors closed. 

They took a breath, Rey shifting so Ben’s shoulder was pressing into her diaphragm. The doors slid open and she dove into the behemoth task of finding her car in the lot, in the dark, while holding onto the shoulders of the giant blinded Apartment Enemy. 

“Okay walk forward,” she coaxed him on. He walked slowly, searching the ground with his foot first to make sure it was safe. “Keep going keep going. To your right- your right!” 

“Sorry,” he muttered, veering the correct direction. Rey spotted the tail end of her trunk ahead of them. 

“Forward I see it!” she said. He stumbled forward, but knocked his hip into a sedan nearby triggering its car alarm. 

“Shit!” he said. 

“Just keeping going!” Rey said, struggling to be heard over the car alarm. 

“What!?” 

She pressed her mouth right beside his ear. 

“Forward!”

He followed instructions, stumbling across the concrete as people started looking out of their windows to see what asshole set off a car alarm in the middle of the night. 

They reached her trunk just as people started yelling things down to them, she could not make out, nor did she wish to hear. He let her down and she hopped into the driver’s seat only to have to poke her head out the window to guide him to the passenger door. He slid into the car and in the dim lights of the dashboard Rey could see his whole face was red and covered in splotches. 

He sneezed; snot stuck to his nose. He groaned, leaning back against the seat. 

Rey drove them to the nearest hospital, having to move her injured foot out of the way and pedal with her left. It felt weird and awkward and made stopping a much more dramatic occasion that it would be. They jerked to a stop and a start all the way there until they pulled into the emergency room parking lot. 

They hobbled into the front door together, the harsh lighting making Ben’s face look even worse than in the car. The nurses immediately flocked to him, taking him into a back room to check on him. Rey gripped the edge of the front desk, unable to move anywhere without help. 

“Did you want to go back with your boyfriend?” the young man at the desk asked. 

“What? Oh no, no, he’s not my- we’re not-” she stumbled over her words, her face growing redder and redder until she finally blurted out: “My foot is broken.”

* * *

Rey sat in her own exam room, filling out paperwork. A nurse had come and measured her pain level and few other intake items before leaving her alone again. Rey went for her phone and found her pockets empty, she left it at her apartment. Wonderful. 

After a while the nurses led Ben into her room to sit in a chair while she waited to be seen. His face was doing better, they’d clearly given him something to treat the reaction, and he had stopped sneezing. 

“He’s pretty much done,” a nurse said to Rey as if she was Ben’s keeper. “We’ll take a look before you two leave but in the meantime you can be together.” 

“Uh, thanks,” Rey said. The nurse smiled and left. The clock on the wall read fifteen past two in the morning. 

She didn’t even have any damn cookies baked. 

Rey leaned against the exam table, mindful of the knot forming on her head from their blind run to the car. She looked at Ben. His face was red, but she could see his eyes now, his eyelids still puffy and pink.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You’re allergic to dogs.” 

“…Yeah?” 

“That’s why you always avoided me!” Rey said. 

“I did what?” 

“I always thought you were so rude because whenever I would take Beebee out you’d go out of your way to avoid us. But you’re not rude- you’re allergic!” Rey smiled. She felt some accomplishment by sliding a puzzle piece into place, even if it was the only thing she did manage to make that night. 

“You thought I was rude?” he asked. 

“ _Thought!_ But I was wrong,” Rey admitted. She still had plenty of reasons to think he was rude, but for some reason the word didn’t feel right anymore. “You’re an okay guy, Solo.” 

“You’re alright too,” he said with a smirk. 

The night had not gone how Rey planned. She thought she’d be in bed by now with a plastic container full of fresh baked cookies ready to handoff. And yet, despite being in an emergency room in the early morning with a broken foot she felt as if she had gained something other than a medical bill.

“Hey,” Ben said from his spot slumped back in the chair by the door. He wore the same goofy grin he had outside her door, his arms full of Crisco and butter. He looked a wreck and yet she liked this version of him so much more. “Do you want to get dinner sometime?” 

Rey smiled, a genuinely happy one that showed all her teeth. 

“Will it end in the hospital?” she asked. Ben chuckled and gave a weak shrug. 

“I can’t make any promises.” 

Rey made a note- Apartment Enemy was too harsh a title. What she wanted to replace it with? Well, that was yet to be seen. 

“I’m willing to risk it,” she said. 

If possible, his face seemed to flush redder.

“I thought you might be.”


End file.
